


Viper Viper Vesper Snow

by almaasi



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Adventure, Bickering, Bottom Julian Bashir, Bottoming from the Top, Cuddling & Snuggling, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Holodecks/Holosuites, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Illustrated, Jadzia considers adding dragons, Kira flies a helicopter, Love Confessions, M/M, Miles just wants to go kayaking, Porn With Plot, Romance, Smut, Snowstorms, Top Elim Garak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21700276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi
Summary: Garak has intruded on Julian’s holosuite adventures one too many times. So, Julian chooses a spy adventure set in icy, black-rock mountains – utterly inhospitable to Garak’s heat-seeking Cardassian physiology. Except Garak already turned off the holosuite safeties and locked them in. Now with a hypothermic lizard on his hands, Julian is going to have to do a hell of a lot more than snuggle to keep his friend alive. But, as each of their fantasies become reality, so too do the pulses of romance buried between their burning skin...
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 50
Kudos: 295





	1. It Fucken WIMDY

**Author's Note:**

> Beta’d by [perphesone](https://perphesone.tumblr.com/). Friendly assistance provided [anupalya](https://anupalya.tumblr.com/)!

Garak only needed to know two things.

Firstly: Bashir had a current reservation at the holosuite.

Secondly: Bashir was in there alone.

Nobody spared Garak a second glance as he passed through the evening commotion at Quark’s bar, but everyone gave him a first glance: a Cardassian in a tuxedo certainly stood out. Especially a Cardassian who wore the look as well as Garak did.

He headed upstairs for the holosuites, nodding to the Bajorans loitering in the walkway, passing by without incident. He reached the dim corridor from which the holosuite doors branched, and approached two familiar women mid-argument. Kira was in her tight red uniform, whereas Jadzia’s Medieval skirts billowed widely around her waist.

Garak’s polite smile was reflected with added radiance by Jadzia Dax, who chirped, “Hi, Garak.”

Kira turned. “Oh,” she said, suspiciously, “hi.” She turned away again, and urged to her friend, “I’m just _saying_ , couldn’t you make a few alterations, at least? How important _is_ historical accuracy, in the grand scheme of things? I’d just prefer something more – you know, _exciting_ than rescuing a couple of knights from—”

“So, what, you want me to add a dragon for you to fight?”

“Can I have a dragon?”

Jadzia yelped, “I wasn’t being serious!”

Garak took a breath. “Major, Lieutenant; so _sorry_ to interrupt, but might I trouble you for the use of the walkway? I promised Dr. Bashir I would meet him.”

Jadzia eased Kira aside to let Garak edge past. “Look,” Jadzia impressed to Kira, “You’re wasting both our time out here. Either join me or don’t, but I only have our suite for another forty minutes.”

“Well, maybe you’d better go in without me, then!”

Garak was glad for the focus the women gave each other, as he was awarded no more attention. He examined each of the in-use holosuites, determined which was Bashir’s by the label on the optolythic data rod, and approached, slipping a corrupted data rod in beside the one holding Bashir’s spy program. The holosuite door blarped awkwardly, signifying an abrupt and illegal change in programming. Kira and Jadzia had raised their voices, and didn’t notice.

Garak smiled, now facing the holosuite doors. He took a deep, preparatory breath and reached for the button to open the doors, expecting to walk straight into a ballroom or a bar on Earth in the 1960s.

A blast of pure white energy and air made Garak wince, hair swept back. Curious, but half-blinded, Garak crept into the holosuite – only to realise his disastrous mistake the moment he set foot on something soft and crunchy and _icy_. His breath gushed out white, as the air in here was beyond frigid. Panicked, he turned to leave, but the doors wheezed shut and vanished.

With a yelp, he reached out, calling, “Computer, doors!”

But of course none appeared. He’d just programmed them not to.

“ _S’vakht!_ ” he swore, arms wrapped around his tuxedo, snarling into the blizzard. He growled at the back of his throat, then uttered, bitterly, “Well, Garak, you did come here looking for a real thrill. Now you hav-v-ve it.” He was immediately concerned by his shivers. He had to find shelter. Or Bashir. Or both.

Stumbling the way the doors had faced, he marched on through this ghastly white foam, wondering what it was and why in any Gul’s name Bashir would want to experience this on _purpose_.

He wandered for less than a minute in a wonky, zig-zagging path, forced by the program to keep him from walking into actual walls inside the small holosuite. Eventually he came to a darkness underfoot, a hard black rock rolling out flat and winding through the whiteness.

“A road,” he realised. He followed it.

Off to the left, he saw depth through the falling flakes: the road opened out to a plunging mountain valley, with black rock and jagged spikes as far as he could see. He paused at the side of the road, peering over the rocks to look down. It was too misty below to see the bottom, but he could hear the fury of a gushing river.

His legs had started to seize up already. Cardassians could just about withstand ‘normal’ Human temperatures, but this kind of frozen terrain would inevitably be a death sentence. Garak only had himself to blame for his current discomfort, and he knew it.

Garak looked up at the purr of an approaching engine, and he stepped back to the road, hurrying on to see around the corner – only for a pair of blazing yellow eyes to meet his, a vehicle roaring. The driver saw Garak and tried to stop, but in a screech of brakes and a slip of black ice, the wheels lost control, the metal body hurling itself sideways off the cliff. Garak threw himself away from the fall, his body collapsing into the white powder. He covered his head with both arms, hearing the massive cannonade of the car hitting rock, rolling, rolling, smashing along the way, then folding itself onto the mountainside with an almighty creak.

The world went deathly silent once more.

Garak caught his breath, then lurched to his feet, heart pounding. “No,” he cried, running to the edge of the road. He looked down. “Julian!” he bellowed. “JuuuliAAAN!”

He began to climb down, frozen hands on frozen rocks, his breaths gasped in, his heart locked solid with terror. He stumbled and scattered pebbles down the slant, but caught himself, then skidded further down the incline, rocks carving scratches into his shiniest black shoes.

Broken glass littered the whiteness with turquoise, glittering diamonds caught on the black crags. Garak reached for the crumpled car, breathless, aching...

He leaned in through a window, and found only a single passenger, and almost fell to his knees when he saw it wasn’t Julian. It was a white-skinned, red-lipped, skinny-as-a-rake woman in a slinky red dress, a briefcase open in her hand. She had just enough life left in her to look at Garak, breathing... then her head slumped, and she disappeared from the program.

With no pang of remorse to spare for an expired holoprojection, Garak’s eyes fell to the open briefcase. A row of glass vials were lined up within slots of protective foam, and one syringe-like dart gun rested beside them. Garak knew nothing about this particular plotline, but he suspected the case was important. So he pried it from the empty seat, closed it up, and took it.

He struggled his way back up the incline. He was glad he’d eaten just before coming to the holodeck, or this would’ve been a lot harder. He crawled back onto the road, knees bruised, fingers tangled around the briefcase handle.

Trudging along the road again, he kept a better ear out for cars, but cursed his weak Cardassian hearing. He was shaken, emotionally, even as he coursed with relief. If that had been Julian in the car back there...

Oh, no, he couldn’t think about it...

Although he didn’t hear a second car approach through the howling wind, he saw the flash of its lights coming closer. He hurried to the road’s safer edge, back to a boulder. He waited for the car to pass, then he hurtled after it, waving, calling, “Doctor! Doctoorr!”

The car slammed to a halt, skidded a few feet – then the driver’s side door smacked open and Bashir got out in his tuxedo, fire-eyed, approaching Garak with indignation in the set of his shoulders and jaw.

“I can’t _believe_ it,” Bashir said, coming up to Garak, who was panting and shaking. “I pick the _one_ program you wouldn’t be able to _stand_ and here you are anyway?! Do you know what this says to me, Garak? You have absolutel— Absolutely _no_ respect for my wishes, anything I tell you, my _privacy_ —”

“I really am most apologetic, doctor,” Garak pleaded, skipping the part where they argued. He was minutes away from losing all feeling in his hands. “Truly I am. But I must—”

“You really just _waltz_ in here, dressed like _that_ —” Bashir plucked at Garak’s lapels in distaste. “You must’ve known I had a holosuite reservation, and that it wasn’t with O’Brien – so, what, you’re stalking me now? You memorised all my schedules?”

Garak just breathed. “Please, I—”

“Computer, doors!” Julian snapped. “You, Garak, are _leaving_.” He glanced around. “Computer! Doors!”

Garak hung his head, exhaling a cloud, eyes on his hand as it slowly clamped up around the briefcase handle.

“Computer, freeze program,” Bashir said.

“Doctor—”

“End program!”

“ _Doctor_ —”

Bashir grabbed Garak by the jacket and slammed him against a boulder. “What did you do?”

“My dear doctor, I simply—”

Bashir threw a punch, and the hard thump of it sent Garak sprawling sideways into the white fluff, which was not actually soft at all, but seemed to bite and snap at Garak’s skin, making his hands tingle most unpleasantly.

Bashir lifted Garak up again, but his expression changed from angry to fearful in a snap. “Garak, you’re bleeding.”

Garak touched his stinging lip with a cold-prickled hand. He saw a tiny dot of red on pale grey. “So I am,” he whispered.

“Oh, no, Garak, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Bashir uttered.

“Nor I you,” Garak promised, hoping for relief but knowing he didn’t deserve it. He tried to stand straight, but Bashir let him go and stormed off to pace, and Garak wobbled, needing to rest on the rock again.

“Safeties off. Program locked in.” Bashir seemed to have left his anger behind and was now openly worried, one hand in his white-flecked hair. “Computer, end weather sequence!”

The computer didn’t respond.

“Computer, raise temperature to twenty-five degrees Celsius!”

“Doctor,” Garak said, voice raised over the sound of the storm. “We must play – p-play the game to the end. That w-w-was my intention. We finish the game, the program ends.”

Bashir stood before him, frustrated and anxious. “Garak, you can’t survive these temperatures. You’ll be dead within a couple of hours. The program is designed to last four hours, I’m barely fifteen minutes in.”

“Then death will have come at m-my own hand,” Garak replied, feeling the urge to slur and stutter tugging at his tongue.

Bashir rushed in, taking Garak’s cheeks in both palms, and Garak cried out with the relief of his body heat so close to him. “Garak,” Bashir said. “You utter, bloody moron.”

Garak tried to laugh but his teeth began to chatter.

“Come on,” Bashir said, taking Garak by the arm and dragging him towards the idling car. “We need to find the Viper.”

“Doctor, the case,” Garak said, holding Bashir back.

Bashir noticed the black rectangle Garak had dropped, and went back for it. He returned to Garak’s side, case in both hands, looking confused. “Why do you have this? My whole mission _revolves_ around retrieving this.”

Garak put on a tense smile. “This ‘Viper’... wouldn’t happen to be a pretty woman in red, by any chance?”

Bashir looked at him sharply.

“I’d suggest you don’t look over the edge of the precipice, doctor,” Garak said solemnly, rolling his eyes when Bashir ignored him and ran to look at the wreckage of the first car. It was some distance away, but he saw.

He turned back to Garak – and hit him with the case. “She’s the whole plotline, Garak, she’s the one trying to assassinate me, she’s the one I spend all this time chasing, flirting with, fighting and seducing until she gives—” Bashir paused. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

“Quite dead.”

“How the hell are we supposed to progress now?” Bashir roared a sigh. “For goodness’ sake. Get in the car.” He yanked Garak by the arm and dragged him to the vehicle, shoving him through the open door, then pushing him along the long front seat so Bashir took the driver’s side. The car was warm enough that Garak sighed in relief, head back on the leather backrest. Bashir glared at him, slamming the door shut.

He dug a hand under his tuxedo jacket and hit his combadge. “Bashir to Ops.”

Silence. Just the whistling of wind through a crack in the car’s door seal.

“Bashir to O’Brien!” Bashir sat forward. “Bashir to anyone on Deep Space Nine!”

Garak adjusted his position sheepishly, and said, in a low voice, “Computer, override holosuite viral matrix communications lockout, emergency authorisation Garak ten.”

The computer bleeped, and Bashir gasped, trying again, “Bashir to Ops!”

He slammed a fist on the car’s horn when there was no response.

“I’d try Dax, or Kira,” Garak said. “They should be in the next holosuite along.”

“Bashir to holosuite four.”

“ _What?_ ” Dax sounded confused. “ _Julian, is that you?_ ”

Bashir massaged his forehead with a thumb and his fingers. “Don’t mean to bother you, Jadzia, but... ah, thing is, I’m in holosuite three. With _Garak_.”

“ _He broke in again?_ ” Dax’s smile was audible.

“Look, we’ve got a problem. The setting is ice-cold, and _Garak_ ’s added some kind of bug to the program so it won’t respond. Can’t unlock the doors, can’t adjust anything. Apparently we just have to play the game to the end, but Garak’s presence altered the plotline and—”

“ _Say no more,_ ” Dax said. “ _I’ll get on it. This program’s no fun by myself anyway. Computer, end program. Exit._ ”

Garak heard the buzz of doors opening at Dax’s end.

It was quiet for a bit. Bashir asked, “Dax?”

The quiet reigned.

“Damn,” Bashir said. “Can only talk via the holosuites.” He turned a chagrined look on Garak. “Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted? Freezing to death with me?”

“I could think of worse endings,” Garak admitted. He turned to look straight out of the windscreen, where flurries of that awful white stuff sped past, collecting on the glass. “Seems to me, doctor, if you have this briefcase, and you know en-n-nough about the plotline that you _know_ you need it, the plot could progr-rr-ress onwards from here.”

Bashir scowled. “Hardly possible,” he said. “The only way you and I are getting to the end of this program is if someone takes over Viper’s role in the story.”

“Oh?” Garak was intrigued. “I’m sure I could play that part. If she was t-trying to kill you, I could make an attempt on your life, if-f-f it would help. I’ll try not to – h-h-hff – injure you too badly, but I make no promises.”

Bashir’s face flickered in his determination not to react. “Garak...” He sighed. “In these programs, what usually happens is...” he shot Garak a nervous glance, then went on, “the girl and I fight viciously and then... overcome by our repressed feelings for each other, we kiss... and... um, sleep together.”

“Why, doctor!” Garak pretended to be shocked. “And to think I spent all this time believing you were in this for the heroic adventure.”

“I _am_.” Bashir’s glare was both exciting and upsetting, and Garak did not flinch away from those piercing hazel-green eyes. “Saving the day and getting the girl _is_ the adventure.”

“Then am I not pretty enough for you, dear doctor?” Garak teased. “And to imagine! I thought I looked so handsome in this outfit.” He patted his wet shirt front sadly.

Bashir failed to restrain a smile. He looked away, eyes rolling. “Listen, Garak, obviously you’ve well and truly ruined tonight’s fun for both of us. But you really are going to be in trouble if we don’t find you somewhere warm to wait out this snowstorm while Dax rescues us. So.” He shifted in his seat, taking the car wheel, and the vehicle grazed onwards through the storm. “Let’s drive. There’s always a conveniently-placed safehouse nearby.”

Garak looked at how Bashir was controlling the car. “I didn’t know you could pilot these machines.”

Bashir glanced at him. “I actually can’t,” he admitted shyly. “I have no idea what any of the pedals do. I sit here and it just... goes. It looks more realistic if I rotate the wheel.”

Garak thought to himself how painfully slow this thing was compared to a starship.

“Doctor,” Garak said, “forgive my ignorance, but what are these? These particles.” He gestured to the whiteness.

“You mean the snow?”

“Sssn...ohhww?” Garak said.

Bashir started to grin. “No Cardassian translation for that, I suppose.”

“Say it again?”

“Snow.”

“Ssnow.” Garak blinked at it. “If it weren’t an immediate danger to my life, and incredibly painful to look at, I might have said it was interesting.”

“It’s frozen rain.”

Garak was horrified. “Your species _enjoys_ this?”

Bashir arched his lips, bobbing his head in an affirmative shrug. “Mostly? Yes. It’s fun to play with. We... We roll it up and make little people out of it.”

Garak imagined Bashir constructing Human children out of log-like swirls of frozen rain, and the children coming to life and running around, and the image was so bizarre Garak was almost certain he imagined it wrong.

Bashir caught sight of Garak’s perplexed stare, and burst out laughing. “Maybe you’ll get a chance to make one sometime. We’ll get you out of here, warm you up, then come back with proper coats on.”

Garak looked at Bashir, soft-hearted. “You want to make... people... with me?”

Bashir shrugged. “Maybe if I _invited_ you to the holosuite once in a while you wouldn’t feel compelled to break in.”

Garak smiled. “I think you’re right.”

Bashir glanced at him. “I’m still angry at you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are.” Garak smiled, and kept smiling as Bashir tried to tut at him and ended up grinning instead.


	2. The Evening Star

“There, what did I tell you?” Bashir turned the car off the road and it jumped and jumbled down a rockier path towards a black square in the middle-distance. “Safehouse.”

Garak didn’t have the energy to reply. His hands were tucked under his arms, eyes half-open, teeth knocking in his closed mouth. His clothes were soaked through and all his extremities were so cold they were both numb and painful at the same time. He’d never been so frozen in his life.

Bashir shot Garak several concerned looks as they pulled up to the stone shack. The car stopped and went still and silent, then Bashir opened his door and in came a horrible, horrible swirl of cold that sent Garak into another set of violent shivers, his body curling in on itself as he whimpered.

“Garak, come on,” Bashir said gently, offering both hands. “Hurry inside with me, and the worst will be over with.”

Garak leaned into Bashir’s hands, letting him guide him out of the car and towards a wooden door halfway off its hinges. Bashir took him right up to it, then placed him aside. He pulled and yanked on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. So he stepped back, lifted a foot high, and _slammed_ the door off its hinges with the flat of his foot. Through the gaping wound they went, where the wind howled past the dark opening of the safehouse and whistled in black corners within.

“Ah, thank God, there’s a fireplace,” Bashir uttered, driving Garak to a broken, musty couch and letting him flop down there. He dropped to his knees before Garak and started to undo his shirt for him.

“Exc-c-cuse me,” Garak said, affronted. “Precisely what are you doin-n-g?”

“Wet clothes aren’t doing you any favours,” Bashir said. “I’m sorry, but you need to undress.”

Garak tried to do it himself, but his fingers fumbled over the tiny buttons – “Most unlike me, as a tailor,” he muttered – so Bashir took over again, baring Garak’s chest, manhandling the jacket and bow tie off him and tossing them to the floor. He then started tugging down Garak’s high-waisted pants.

“Really, doctor!”

“Necessary,” Bashir insisted. “Do you want to freeze to death or will you let me – take – your – pants – off!” He wrestled with Garak’s wet trouser hems, stumbling back a step as they came free, along with both shoes and one sock. He went back for the other sock, plucked it off Garak’s clawed reptilian foot, and discarded it. “I’ll let you keep your underwear on, it’s not too wet.”

“How cons-s-siderate of you.”

“I’ll get a fire going. Keep shivering, Garak, it’s a good sign. Your body’s keeping you moving to keep the blood flowing.”

Garak did as he was told, as his body gave him no choice.

For a couple of minutes, Bashir stacked up logs from beside the fire into a grey and dusty stone arch in the shack’s inside wall, and attempted to make fire with two sticks rubbed together. Over and over, he blew hopefully over a pile of plant litter he’d collected from the corners of the hut. But he grew frustrated and desperate, tossed down the sticks with the rest of his kindling, shoved a hand under his tuxedo jacket and down the back of his pants, pulled out his revolver, and shot the fireplace. Garak yelped at the deafening blast – but then, recovering from his shock, he saw that either the spark from the firearm or the heat of the bullet had set a flame in the kindling, and the flutter grew to consume the rest, catching the peeling bark of the smallest logs. The orange glow spread.

Bashir blew the tip of his gun, then looked back at Garak, twinkly-eyed. “How was that?”

“Veerrry impressive, doctor,” Garak oozed, before sinking back into a sludge-brained state of chill. “Ssso... asss-s-ertive...”

“Garak...?” Bashir put the gun on the mantelpiece and paced closer, sitting down on the couch next to Garak, making the cushion dip. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold,” Garak said.

Bashir took his icy, bloodless hand and held it – and hissed. Garak despaired that he could barely feel the touch. “Oh dear,” Bashir said. “I think you’re right. Very cold.”

“Of-f-f-f courss-s-e I’mm-m-m right,” Garak said flatly. “Y-You took off all my clothes. In ff-f-ffact I—”

“ _Kira to Bashir._ ”

Bashir gasped and hit his combadge. “Bashir here! Where are we on the holosuite problem, Major?” He was still holding Garak’s hand.

“ _Looks like some kind of program override, doctor. It’s pretty vicious, not to mention thorough. There’s a few emergency escape hatches in the code but looks like they only open communications within holosuites, or activate transports, but only in the case that one of you actually dies._ ”

Bashir gave Garak a stern look. Then he turned his head and called to Kira, “Any chance you can fool the computer’s sensors into thinking we’re already dead so you can get us out of here?”

Dax’s sing-song voice came in clearly: “ _Working on it!_ ”

Then, Miles O’Brien added, “ _I was just about to go off duty, as well. Now I’ll be camped out in a holosuite for God knows how long, and I don’t even get to go kayaking._ ”

“You’ve got about two hours maximum, Chief,” Bashir said carefully, eyeing Garak’s shaking lips. “I’ve got a hypothermic patient in here.”

“ _Gotcha,_ ” Miles said.

Garak stared at Bashir. Bashir stared back.

“ _Doctor?_ ”

“Go ahead, Major.”

“ _Tell your boyfriend I’m gonna kick his scaly ass once you get out of there._ ”

Bashir grinned, and was about to reply, when Dax said, “ _Hey, it’s not so bad. At least I get to hang out in a holosuite with you._ ”

Kira snorted. “ _Wouldn’t call this restorative, though._ ”

“ _No,_ ” Dax agreed. “ _Mm, a bit exciting, maybe. Rescuing the two boneheads who imprisoned themselves in a frozen wasteland._ ”

“ _Huh. Guess you get your whole knight-rescuing fantasy after all._ ”

“ _Guess so._ ”

Bashir ducked his head, sucking the back of his tongue, all too aware that the moment had passed and now he couldn’t dispute the whole ‘boyfriend’ quip Kira had made. Silence rang, decorated by the low drone of the wind through the gaping door and the snap and pop of the fire taking a proper hold on the logs.

“Doctor,” Garak breathed, trembling awfully. “I’m...mmm... s-s-so c-c-c-old...”

“I know.” Bashir frowned in sympathy, sighing and resting his forehead on Garak’s. “It’s your own _fault_ , Garak. But... oh, hold on, my friend.” He cupped Garak’s cheek in hand, met his eyes, then said, “I’m going to go outside for a minute, I’ll find something to block the door.”

Garak nodded shakily, aching as Bashir left him.

Garak curled himself down onto the couch, arms around his naked middle, nose buried in the ugliest brown checkered wool he’d ever seen on anything, let alone a piece of furniture.

He shook like he’d never shaken before, still vibrating violently when Bashir came back an unknown amount of time later. A hard thump met Garak’s ears, and he tried to look up, but was only able to see Bashir fighting with the door he’d kicked, trying to barricade it onto the frame with a branch through the metal handle. He did his best, then moved on, carrying something – something big and heavy that took up a huge space in his arms.

The lump fell with a _whump_ down onto the dusty stone floor before the fire. Garak watched Bashir’s silhouette bend and kneel and hobble around, spreading out what looked like thick animal pelts or fur blankets. He swiped the top one free of dirt.

Soon he grew still, then glanced up, his dark waves of hair haloed by the steady firelight.

He stood up, then took off his jacket and undid his bow tie.

He came up to Garak with one blanket draped over one arm, sitting by him again, tucking the cover over him. Garak thought the cover would be warm, but it was chilly.

“It’s getting dark outside,” Bashir whispered.

Garak wondered why he whispered.

Bashir reached over Garak’s curled form, and pried something creaky off the wall. Garak tilted his head back enough to realise it was a window, and Bashir had opened the wooden shutters to see through the glass. Indeed, the stormy sky had darkened.

Bashir sat with Garak for a while, the shirt on his lower back pressed against Garak’s middle. Bashir’s right arm lay along Garak’s body, hand on his shoulder.

“Doct-tt-tor?”

“Hm? I’m still here.”

“I rr-r-really must... app-p-pologise, for my be-h-haviour. I h-h-have been immensely ru-rude to you, and as you s-s-said, disrespec-c-ct-f-ful of your w-w-w-w-w-wish-sh-shes.”

Bashir turned his eyes away. “Yes, you damn well _have_ , Garak.”

Garak sighed. He took a breath, wondering if he had the courage to beg forgiveness yet again, when Bashir added, curtly, “I understand why, though.” He hung his head, not looking at Garak. “Why you keep breaking into my holosuite games. Why you feel the need to lock us both in so I can’t make you leave. You’re just desperate for some _enjoyable company_ , aren’t you.”

He didn’t need to say ‘ _because you’re a sad, lonely man with no other friends and nothing pleasant to do with your time_ ’ but Garak heard it anyway.

Bashir sighed, relaxing a bit. He slumped with his inner bicep over Garak’s ribs, shirt sleeve rolled up, curled hand propping up his own head. He stared into the fire, then looked out of the window.

“Snow’s stopping,” he said quietly.

A few minutes of Garak’s aggressive shivering later, Bashir added, “Can see the stars.”

Garak tried to roll over, but was too weak and clumsy to do it, which made him angry, and he snarled at nothing, glaring at the fire across the tiny room.

Bashir looked at him in concern. A warm, careful hand slipped sweetly under the blanket, and Garak gasped in shock as its heat slid to his bare chest, holding his heart.

Bashir shook his head. “Stage two.”

“S-St-ta... what...”

“It’s getting worse,” Bashir explained. “Come on. Let me under there.”

Garak exclaimed as Bashir undressed himself, looking down at Garak as he did. Unbuttoned shirt, skinny brown chest, pointy little hipbones... His legs were so long and so slender, his fluffy thighs highlighted perfectly by the fire. Bare feet, toes curled against the chill.

“Sorry about this,” he murmured, then lifted the pelt to crawl in with Garak. “Doctor’s orders.”

Garak gasped at the shock of Bashir’s heat, thigh against thigh, belly to belly, shy eyes on Garak’s neck, lips parted. Bashir wriggled and bit his lip, then lay still, arms around Garak.

Garak carried on shivering. “D-Dare I ask-k what—”

“Skin-to-skin provides a gentle enough heat it won’t affect your heartbeat,” Bashir explained, nuzzling his nose right under Garak’s throat. Hot breath rushed down his chest as Bashir added, “Just relax. Talk to me.”

Garak couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

Bashir noticed. “Then listen,” he said. He shut his eyes for a moment, then when he opened them, he stared out of the window, a faraway look in his eyes. “Humans have... rituals, I suppose. Superstitions. We carried some of them to the station – when the wormhole opens, we make a wish.” His eyes dipped back to Garak’s, and they looked deep into each other’s eyes for a while, Garak trembling, Bashir holding the side of his neck. “Humans, we’ll wish on anything. Stars in the sky, or meteors. Rainbows. When all the numbers on the clock are the same.”

That made Garak chuckle a little, but it turned into a pained wheeze, and he thoughtlessly snuggled closer into Bashir’s beautiful heat.

“Through the window,” Bashir said, “even here in the holosuite, there’s millions of stars. But the brightest one I see isn’t a star at all. It’s Venus. One of the planets closest to Earth. They call it the Evening Star, and the Morning Star. It’s the first to be seen at dusk and the last to fade at dawn.”

“D-ssh-hh...” Garak gulped, a difficult task, but asked, rasping, “M-Make wish-shes?”

Bashir nodded, stroking through Garak’s hair – an overwhelming gesture of care that Garak didn’t deserve. “I wish that you’ll be safe, Garak. And you will be. Do you hear me?”

Garak sobbed dryly, a failed laugh. He shut his eyes, growing sleepy in Bashir’s comforting embrace.

Bashir went on, some urgency in his voice, “In Ancient Greek myths the ‘star’ was called Hesperus. He was anthropomorphised as a god – several gods, actually, a family – and the same character in Roman myths was known as Vesper. And – Garak, are you listening? Vespers are religious prayers, said in the evening. Prayers – they’re like wishes, aren’t they? Do you pray? Garak? Garak, tell me you pray.”

Garak could only just hear his voice. Oh, he was so sleepy...

“GARAK!”

Garak flinched awake. “Hm?” He frowned. “Doctor, there’s-s-s no need to shout at me.”

“You stopped shivering – which should be a good thing but your breathing and heart rate slowed, and you’re falling asleep—”

“Tired.”

“Stage three,” Bashir said. “Garak, I don’t know what’s wrong, this isn’t helping you. It should be helping but it’s getting worse. Your core temperature must have fallen too low—” He sat up, and a rush of cold air gushed against Garak’s chest. “I hate to move you when you’re in this state but I think you need to get closer to the fire. Three feet is apparently too far away.”

He got up and wrapped Garak in the fur blanket, securing his arms around Garak’s entire torso as he lifted him up and got him to his feet. Garak’s legs gave way, but Bashir held him upright, truly showing his strength. Bare feet scuffing the stone floor, they plodded to the pelt spread before the fire, and Bashir knelt, lowering Garak with him.


	3. Ten CCs of Direct Physical Contact

For the first time, Garak felt the heat of the fire. He’d thought he was just too numb before – but there actually was a warmth easing from it, something intoxicating and smoky and dense cloaking his bare skin in gooey, molten amber.

Garak lay down once more, his back padded by the fur. He saw a dazzling vision of Julian above him, his face in light and shadow, eyes blazing with flame. Garak reached up a clumsy hand, fingertips touching Bashir’s pretty lips.

Bashir stared, letting him feel out their shape.

Then Garak grew weary, and shut his eyes, arm slumping.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Bashir warned.

“‘M not,” Garak said, while consciousness ambled away from him.

“You liar,” Bashir grunted, patting Garak’s cheek with his fingers. “Wake up.”

“Buhhh...” Garak tried his best to argue, but only seconds passed before a comforting nothingness slid over his mind again.

Dark...

He was ripped from the darkness by a stinging cheek, and he gasped at the pain, looking up into the face of his assailant.

“I’m very sorry,” Bashir said firmly, “but under no circumstances am I letting you leave.”

Garak tried to say ‘ _Well, what a lovely surprise, you do want me here after all_ ,’ but only the faintest wisp of breath came from his lips. He attempted to fight the fatigue this time, but it was like trying to stop the flow of Cardassian black honey; once poured, only a knife around the rim of the jar could cut the oozing, easy flow of it. It fell and fell and fell and smothered everything dark and sweet and glorious...

Here was the knife again. Bashir pinched Garak’s neck.

“Ow!” Garak managed.

“I will do _whatever_ it takes to keep you awake, Garak,” Bashir said. He glanced away for a moment, looking for his discarded clothes. He snatched up his shirt, rummaged until his found his combadge, and pressed it in his thumb. “Anyone who can hear me, I need an update on the holosuite, please.”

After a moment, O’Brien replied, “ _Gonna be a while, Julian, I’ve barely started digging into the system. We’re talking an hour, at least. Seems your Cardassian friend designed this virus to be hard to override. He_ really _wanted to play your spy game with you, looks like. And make it as dangerous as possible while he’s at it._ ”

“Well, it wouldn’t be any fun otherwise,” Bashir uttered, with maximum bitterness, but wore a tiny smile as he caught sight of Garak’s amused glance. His smile turned to worry, however, and he lay beside Garak once more, on his front, propped on his elbows. He urged, quietly, “Look – Jadiza, Miles, Nerys – forget about getting us out. Just work on the environmental controls. I’m doing everything I can for Garak but – I-hh—” His breath caught, and his voice faded to a trembling whisper as he finished, “I think I’m dangerously close to losing him. He’s not physically capable of handling this temperature.”

Kira said, “ _Transporters at the ready. If he goes, tell me, and I’ll get him out. One of your staff could revive him. Or else put him in stasis until we can get you out too._ ”

Bashir gave Garak a grim look. “I’d rather it didn’t come to that, Major.”

“ _Acknowledged._ ”

Bashir rubbed his forehead in distress. “Keep me updated. Bashir out.”

He set down the combadge, then cuddled up to Garak under the blanket, cheek on Garak’s chest, arms around him. Garak grew emotional, overwhelmed by the devotion Bashir was showing him in his final hour. In a slow, sluggish movement, Garak lifted a hand and stroked it down Bashir’s smooth, naked back.

Bashir’s eyelashes fluttered. He looked up, curious.

Garak peered back, blinking deeply, drawing a deep, useless breath. “Mmm.”

“Stay awake,” Bashir whispered, a hopeful slant to his eyebrows. “Please.”

“C... an...’t...”

“Garak.” Bashir _bit_ one of the bigger scales on Garak’s chest.

Garak sucked in a breath. “Stop that.”

Bashir poked him in the ribs. “No.” He poked and poked and poked and Garak started to squirm, complaining in breathy moans, but too weak to crawl away.

“Hurts,” Garak said.

“Well, what would you suggest?” Bashir kept poking.

“Ss’mthnnn... nicer...”

“Nicer than keeping you alive?” Bashir stabbed Garak’s chest with his chin as he rested his face there, glaring at Garak. “I need to distract you. Keep you focused on the present. Stay in your body, Garak, even if it hurts. Let it hurt. You’re still alive. You’re still _alive_. You’re still—” He paused, then sobbed out a breath, hiding his face against Garak’s neck. “...Garak...”

A moment later, Garak felt soft lips touch his own, then lift away.

Garak’s eyes opened wide, seeing Bashir above him, glistening with firelight, eyes ashine with unfallen tears. His wavy hair hung past his temples, wet but drying. He was upset... but hopeful now. He started to smile. “Oh,” he said warmly. “Oh, _that_ did the trick, didn’t it?” He shut his eyes and kissed Garak again, holding his face, head turning above him. “Mmmm.”

Garak took a sip of air as Bashir lifted away. “Mmm... m-m-my dear...”

Bashir laughed through another sob. “Tell me it’s working.”

Garak nodded. Indeed, he felt a flood of warmth in him – excitement, adrenaline. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here, and he dared not fade from this moment. Kissed! For a third time now, kissed, by the friend he loved maybe more than anything or anyone... Julian’s romantic affections could sustain Garak through anything.

Garak tilted his head to the side, hand rising up to stroke Bashir’s damp hair, then cradle his jaw. They kissed more deeply, but carefully; Bashir was obviously monitoring Garak’s heartbeat with fingertips on his inner wrist, and Garak was just trying to make sure he breathed regularly.

They shared a laugh as they separated, wet lips and shaky grins. Bashir’s lips and the skin around them had flushed a little redder; his pupils had grown darker, even in the gold blaze that painted one side of his face. He nudged down again, eyelashes fluttering as he and Garak smooched, nosing and pushing and holding each other close.

Garak fully shuddered and cried out in shocked pleasure as Bashir slid their hands together, palms to palms, fingers interlocked. Bashir knew what it meant, they’d talked enough about Cardassian culture that he couldn’t have been ignorant of that intimacy. This was a lover’s touch. Garak gasped a few times, breaths and heartbeat surging as a pulse of arousal took over.

“Doctor...”

Bashir kissed his chest, eyes shut. Again, again, up and up and up to kiss Garak’s neck.

“Surely this,” Bashir breathed around a smile, breath on Garak’s throat, “is nicer.”

Garak laughed weakly and nodded. “A world kinder, doctor.” Their eyes met as Bashir lifted his head up, smiling. With love in his voice, Garak murmured, “Julian.”

“This really is working,” Julian said, astonished. “The fire, the blankets, yes, but...” He grinned a little, unsure and embarrassed. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

Garak only nodded once.

Julian giggled, tucking his happy grin down by Garak’s neck again. “Um... Actually, Garak... I... I’m feeling a little hotter as well...”

He allowed his hips to turn, and Garak felt the tentative touch of Julian’s underwear-covered erection against his upper thigh.

Julian lifted his head, searching Garak’s eyes to see if that kind of advance was permissible. Garak only smiled, delighted by the liberties Bashir was taking.

Maybe all the uninvited entrances into the doctor’s private fantasies had finally illustrated a point: Garak wanted to act on his desires, or have Julian act on his, and not require either of them to _ask_ about it first.

Cardassians weren’t supposed to ask. They were supposed to wait for the right signals from a partner, then _take_. Humans were very different – from their need for stated consent, to their signals being soft and sultry rather than aggressive. Garak had tried to be careful, making sure he didn’t actually violate Julian in any unforgivable way, so stepping into holosuite adventures without asking, thus making Julian blissfully furious, seemed a safe way to demonstrate his advances.

For years Julian had given quivering half-signals, aborted flirtations, consistently showing interest but without enough surety or commitment – either soft, or aggressive; Julian seemed to display a liking for both – so Garak had been reluctant to satisfy himself with a kiss or a touch.

So, now, to have Julian show Garak physical interest, touching without asking first, filled Garak with such _heat_ that he wondered why he’d ever been freezing in the first place. The room was sweltering, and their connected bodies were the flame at its centre.

They lost themselves in passion, holding each other, kissing with a vitality that would’ve been impossible only minutes previously. Garak heard himself moan, thrilled as he heard Julian respond with a sound so vulnerable, yet shared with confidence.

“Doctor,” Garak gasped, panting, turning his head from the kiss. “Enough. Enough kissing.” Before Bashir could get upset, Garak touched his own sore lip. “Hm. Still hurts.”

“From when I punched you,” Julian remembered. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I thought the safeties were still on.”

“Stop apologising,” Garak grunted. He gave Julian a devilish, proud look, hard-eyed. “I’ve never loved you more.”

Julian blinked, then laughed. “So, you can’t kiss me. What else can I do to focus you?” He rose up, lapping at his upper lip, a sultry sheen in his eyes as his right thigh dragged over Garak’s hips and flumped down on the other side. Julian had straddled him, and certainly felt Garak’s arousal against his perky buttocks.

“Oh-ho,” Julian said quietly. He squirmed in place a little, breath catching. “Alright.” He let out a low breath, lips narrowed. “Alright.” He shut his eyes, head back, groaning, “Oh...”

Garak took Julian’s waist and brought his torso down, hands sliding into his hair. “Undress me.”

Julian nodded. “Believe me, I was going to.” He gave Garak a grin as he inched back, getting off briefly to denude himself first, wriggling and grunting manically under the blankets, then did the same for Garak, going all the way under the covers to pry Garak’s undershorts away. Garak wasn’t certain if Julian got a look at his sex, which had smooth, hornlike bumps descending on either side of its engorged crest and gleaming-wet central slit – but if he did, he said nothing of its difference to his own organ.

Smiley and breathing in puffs, Julian hurried to return to the warmth of Garak’s stocky waist, fur blanket draped from his shoulders like a warrior’s cape.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Julian crooned, palms on Garak’s chest, putting weight there. He was such a gorgeous sprite up there atop Garak; Garak was treated to a view he thought he’d never see. “Oh, that’s lovely.” Julian shut his eyes and breathed out, rocking to ease Garak’s erection against the partition of his buttocks, giving some friction. “Hmm. Mm.”

“I always suspected... you were teasing me for all these years, doctor,” Garak said, as Julian bumped his weight around Garak’s erection but didn’t settle or squeeze. “Now I _know_ you are. Is this the game you like to play? To make me wait?”

Julian sighed out a half-moan, “ _Auhh_ ,” head tilting, gaze sparkling in the light. He had such a knowing, playful look in his eyes. “I see you have your voice back.”

“Enough to tell you you’re being quite the barbarian to me, my dear,” Garak said, wincing as his arousal started to throb uncomfortably. “If you wish for me to beg then you may just have your wish. As cruel as it might be.”

Julian chuckled, eyes rolling. “I’m not teasing, Elim,” he said kindly. “At least not on purpose. At least... not right now.” He went still, then licked his lips in thought, eyes lowering to his own erection, which jumped a little as his dark scrotum squished against the softness below Garak’s navel. Julian fingered behind himself, mapping out the smooth-horned head of Garak’s erection, then exhaling in apparent interest as he felt a gush of pre-seminal fluid coating his fingers.

Garak murmured in desperation, wishing the doctor would just make up his mind. Julian was now examining his lubricated fingers, thumb sliding back and forth over his slick, glistening fingerprints. His brows rose a fraction, lips parted and drawing into a curious ‘o’... He looked into Garak’s eyes, and glossed his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Is there... um, any chance you want to—”

“Don’t ask me, Julian; just take what you want,” Garak said firmly.

Julian swallowed. “Just... take.”

“Yes.”

“Now.”

“Yes. Unless, of course, you feel there is some reason why you shouldn’t.”

Julian thought, then shook his head a tiny bit. “Okay.” He relaxed himself, shaking his shoulders in a shimmy, head following the movement, eyes on the rafters of the shack. “Right then.”

He swallowed hard, then adjusted his weight over Garak, rising up and breaking contact. Chilled by the loss, Garak looked down his chest, gratified to see Julian fumbling for Garak’s erection, taking it – oh, _bliss_ —

And...?

Julian made eye contact, smiled, and sank down, filling himself with Garak in one slow press.

Garak’s chin surged up as he cried out, hips lifting from the pelt; he yelled again in relief, collapsing and settling in for the next surge of pleasure, as Julian had bitten into his brown lip deeply, eyes as dark and intense as the end of days. His body fit around Garak’s better and better with every passing second, their confluence every bit infernal as it was divine.

“Oh, my dear,” Garak murmured, taking Julian’s neck in both hands, as Julian leaned over him, their hips squelching and shifting smoothly together. They panted out of sync, shaken smiles catching the corners of their lips. “Oh, my _love_ , aren’t you the most beautiful thing...”

Julian laughed, flattered, head lolling wildly to one side, then bowing to rest on Garak’s forehead, spoon shape to smooth skin. “You’re one to talk, Garak,” Julian uttered, husky-voiced. “Good _God_ , man, you’re—”

“ _Feel anything yet?_ ” came O’Brien’s voice through the com.

Garak huffed and rolled his eyes, as Julian gasped and looked around, pausing his slow thrusts to pat the rug until he found the badge. “Ah?” he panted, badge in hand. “What’s that, Chief?”

“ _I said have you felt it heating up yet? Noticeable changes? How are you two getting on in there?_ ”

Julian was stumped for a moment, peering down at Garak, who shrugged with his face and peered up.

“Um,” Julian said. “I... h-have Garak under me. Under control, I mean!” He shut his eyes and gave a helpless squirm, flinching when an involuntary “ _n’yuh!_ ” flew from his lips. “Ah-h— All fine in here now, Chief. Garak’s stable... Warm... Hhmmm, hot, actually.”

Dax said, slyly, “ _Julian? We got the temperature controls online, is what the Chief means._ ”

Kira asked, “ _What? What else would he have meant?_ ”

Dax: “ _I think you’ll have to ask Julian that. He sounds preoccupied._ ”

Julian snorted, head down as he smirked. All this time he thought Garak was thawing out because of _him_. “My hands are a little full right now, Lieutenant. That’s all.”

“ _We can beam you out of there the minute we untangle this code,_ ” O’Brien said.

“NO!” Julian and Garak both yelped.

“Not yet,” Julian added.

O’Brien responded, fully affronted, “ _Well, alright then, we won’t! Jesus, Julian, make your mind up._ ”

“Ohhh, I have,” Julian groaned. “Thank you for fixing the temperature. I – auhh – owe you all dinner. Now don’t take this the wrong way, but please, please... shut up now.”

O’Brien started to argue, but Dax cut in, grinning, “ _Bye, Julian. We’ll get back to trying to rescue you and let you enjoy yourselves in the meantime, how’s that sound?_ ”

“Perfect.” Julian tossed down the badge and groaned loudly, falling into a pulsating, throbbing rhythm over Garak, hips working down and hard and heavy as he moaned, “Ouhh-h-h, shh, Garaaak—” He shivered, “Gah- _HAH_ – yes... hhyes...”

Then came O’Brien’s horrified whisper, “ _Julian, end the bloody transmission._ ”

Julian shrieked and pounced – but Garak got there first and hit the badge, taking Julian into a hug, laughing against his blushing cheek as Julian sobbed, and shuddered, only to laugh as well, secure in Garak’s hands and drawn into a tighter embrace.

Gaining some strength in the rising heat, Garak began to push harder against Julian’s buttocks, making Julian gasp, writhing as he was shoved up Garak’s chest by a couple of inches.

Julian tipped his eyes up, meeting Garak’s gaze and holding it intently as they shifted and nudged and felt each other’s bodies from the inside out. Garak was astounded anyone could feel so _tight_. Humans really were extraordinary.

“Garak,” Julian looked desperate, helpless, hungry. “Oh, my God, Garak, you’re amazing. This is amazing. I can’t— Oh, God, I can’t— Yes— _Hnyyeh-hes_... Please – oh, _OH_ —”

Barely another minute had passed and Garak felt hot enough that he flung off the blanket, revealing the full glory of the doctor straddling him, with his sweat-glossed neck and blood-flushed lips. His stubborn cock went on bouncing in place, untouched by a hand but just as stiff as ever. It was such a smooth shape, no ridges up its sides... and as Garak explored it with his fingers, he found the sheath of dark brown skin slipped down easily and released a line of clear fluid. Julian’s sex was smooth under the sheath too. No wonder the dear doctor was making such surprised, reverential noises; he’d never had anything so textured inside him. The smooth horns on Garak’s erection had to be driving him crazy.

“Oh, more,” Julian moaned, eyes closed, breaths heavy, face all ablush. “Garak, I need _more_ , please, I...” He peeked down. “How much can you take?”

Garak slipped both hands into Julian’s, fingers interlocked. “I’ll take all you have to give, dear Julian,” he promised – then took Julian’s body in both arms and _flung_ them over, Julian winded as his back thumped the fur padding below them, his long legs awry around Garak’s hips.

But Garak began to thump into him, and after a few unsteady, shocked cries, Julian lay back his head and shut his eyes, letting Garak haul both thighs up over his ridged shoulders, which gave Garak an extra level of pleasure that reduced him to whimpers, head lolling over his lover, exhales searing over Julian’s chest.

“Garaaaak,” Julian laughed, giggling before moaning, then moaning before gasping. He was driven down into the floor, arms slowly sliding over his head, his hands leaving Garak’s, the backs of both hands combing fingers through the fur rug, then touching to the flagstones high above him. His underarms were fluffy with _hair_ , and Garak had never known that; he marvelled at this strange, oddly adorable revelation.

Bowing his head, Garak bit and sucked at Julian’s tender, tender earlobe, and just under it, delighted as Julian trembled, one hand lowering to scrunch into Garak’s hair. From hair he fell to tease along the erect ridge of Garak’s neck, up and down, one fingertip, then four.

“Julian,” Garak gasped. “Oh. Oh, you truly are most gratifying—”

Julian bellowed a laugh, eyes rolling. “A compliment of the highest order, Elim.”

“Never any less,” Garak whispered, before taking Julian by the hips, pulling out – making him wail in unexpected pleasure – and turning the man over, right over, face to the floor. Garak mounted him, all his weight on Julian’s lower back and perfect ass, plush and plump and now wet with a fresh spill of Garak’s natural lubricant. His brown skin glistened so beautifully, and his hole opened around Garak’s ridged arousal with so much welcome. 

Garak sank in again at a new angle, setting a new pace.

Garak had never been this hot in his life, and he’d never lived for a glory any greater than the glory of this moment. Julian met each thrust with perfect timing and a shout, with just enough vigor and just enough speed that Garak keened at the peak of each shift, each vocalisation rising higher and higher, as his body sang itself closer to his climax.

But Julian froze up, panting, “Wait!”

Garak eased to an unwilling halt. “Is – there a – problem, doctor?” he panted.

Julian tried to look back. “Do Cardassians fall asleep after they – finish?”

Garak smiled slowly, purring as he bent to apply a kiss to Julian’s sweat-slick spine. “I hardly think there’s much danger to us now, if we were to sleep. Thanks to our rescue team and your fire-lighting skills, it’s hot as a sauna in here. I shan’t be napping my way to doom.”

Julian relaxed. “Right.” He drew a happy breath. “You’re right. In that case, Garak, carry on.”

“Much obliged, my dear.” Garak stroked Julian’s back as he eased back into a rhythm, slower than before. “Although,” he said, conversationally, “I do feel terrible about your friends. They’re working hard to extricate you from my mistakes and yet I get the greatest reward of all.”

Julian laughed. “Well, I’m not letting the rest of them fuck me just to say thanks. Dinner will have to do.”

Garak hummed a laugh, nose pressed on Julian’s shoulder. “I myself owe them a debt of gratitude.”

“Maybe don’t mess up the holosuites again, that’ll cover it,” Julian said, slipping a hand between his legs to touch himself, smearing Garak’s natural lubricant right where he needed it. “And— Aaugh, stop talking about other people and just – oh—”

Garak had curled an arm around Julian’s front and took over, shifting a fist around his erection; Julian became pliant in Garak’s grip, whole body shaking over the rug, whimpering in bliss. “Garak,” he whispered. Garak pushed and pushed and kissed Julian’s neck, lips dragging, tongue-tip tasting... “Garak. AuHHyeah— Elim... Elim...”

Garak kissed him once more.

“Elimmmmm,” Julian tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed. “I-I-I think? I th-thaaAH...”

He collapsed, tense and silent as he came. He pressed cheek and then forehead to the blanket, strangled sounds bursting from deep within. His body gave off a radiant heat that Garak moaned at, falling closer, wrapping himself toes to thighs to cheek around his lover, gorging on the fever that had overtaken Julian as he writhed through a searing climax.

Now Julian breathed like he was out of air, weak on the pelt-covered ground, hands open, legs splayed. “Aah... ah... Gahhh... oh...” He breathed a laugh, which wasn’t much of a laugh, but came with a darling little smile that compelled Garak to kiss his cheek.

“You are beyond exquisite,” Garak whispered to him, kissing his ear. “Dear Julian... oh, I mean this with each unworthy fibre of my blackened heart, but you are... perfect. You truly are. To me, in any case.” He sighed, resting his ridged forehead to Julian’s shoulder. “I am... you see... very close to my own climax... and I can only think about the unimaginable honour of... now...?” As unlike him as it was, he got caught on his words, unsure how to go on. He didn’t want to ask...

But Julian turned to lie on his other cheek, eyes meeting Garak’s, a devious twinkle in his gaze. “Thought you said not to ask.”

“So I did.”

Julian smirked. “So don’t ask. Just take.”

Garak pondered how Julian could become more perfect than perfect. But Garak dipped his head in a grateful nod, holding his lover’s eyes until the last possible moment, again adjusting his weight atop Julian... and...

Garak sighed in relief, sinking deeply into the heat of Julian’s body. Soft unlike anyone else, caring unlike anyone else. Julian spread his legs and opened his hands, ready for Garak’s fingers to slip between his own. They held on, intimate in ways words could not describe, as there was no comparing the inconceivable density and _devotion_ that was shown here, as Garak kissed and pushed and lost himself in pleasure as Julian held him, letting him take and take and _take_ until, at last, Garak sighed, a happy moan sliding from the back of his throat, lips open wide over Julian’s back.

Garak took a moment to shiver, to let the pulse fade...

He was still on fire as he slipped out of Julian, and a flood of glitter flowed after him, wet and pouring between Julian’s legs. Julian shook, flustered and stunned but clearly enjoying the new sensation, giving tiny hums of appreciation, never letting go of Garak’s hands. Julian even kissed Garak’s knuckles, kisskisskiss, and then grinned against his fingers, sucking a single grey fingertip, then biting it with unravelling delicacy.

Julian soon rolled over, his floppy-limbed lethargy illustrating how completely spent he was. Yet he kept himself awake to bask in the sparking firelight and in the spirit of Garak’s adoration. With all the tenderness of a man in love, Garak stroked Julian’s cheek with the back of his hand, kissing his nose, then his lips, even though his own inner lip was still swollen.

It didn’t take Julian long to succumb to the temptation of sleep... and he faded without a word, knowing it was safe to do so.

Garak smiled, watching him for a while. Such a sweet sight.

His own eyelids fell hooded, fatigue finally wearing him down. He lay beside Julian, but couldn’t take his eyes off him...


	4. Viper Viper, Bare Your Teeth

“ _Kira to Bashir._ ”

Julian drew a sleepy breath, stirring on the fur rug. “Hm?”

“ _Kira to Bashir, you there? Doctor, come in._ ”

Garak blinked hard, fingers pressing his eyes. He lifted his head, looking around, reaching to take the badge. “Garak here. Hello, Major. How lovely to hear you.”

“ _Oh. Bashir, is he—_ ”

“Perfect, Major. He’s quite, quite perfect.”

Kira seemed stumped by that. “ _Right. Uhm._ ”

Dax joined in, “ _Garak, listen, we’ve got your virus completely extricated from the holosuite program. There’s a few options here – we can reset or end the program. Or we can leave, let you do... whatever you’re doing, and send the poor Chief home at last. Or we can trigger the program to progress the story even with the changes you’ve made. It’ll go off script but the safeties are back on, so you could be in for a new adventure._ ”

Julian sat up now, sniffing, ruffling a hand through his hair. He was squinting, but after shoving the heel of his hand against each eye and blinking hard, he reached for the combadge and replied, “How long until my holosuite reservation ends?”

Kira laughed. “ _Oh, for the love of the Prophets – they just woke up!_ ”

Julian grumbled.

Dax chuckled, “ _About an hour left, Julian._ ”

Julian gave Garak a questioning look, and Garak started to smile.

“Major,” Garak said, sitting up and placing a hand on Julian’s bare shoulder, as Julian scrunched the discarded blanket over his lap, “I understand this may be an inconvenient time, but if you would care to join us in the holosuite, I’m sure the program could find a place for you in the story.”

“ _Ohh, really!?_ ” Dax sounded excited.

“ _Ugh._ ” Kira did not.

“ _Oh, come onnnn,_ ” Dax begged. “ _After all this you gotta take a load off, Nerys. Trust me. Chief, you too._ ”

“ _But!_ ” O’Brien grunted. “ _They’re... you know. Doing it._ ” His voice had gone all small and worried.

Garak beamed. “I assure you, we’re quite finished with that activity, Mr. O’Brien.”

Dax urged, “ _Look, you two, it’s only an hour, what’s the harm? I’m telling you – heyheyhey, Chief, come back here! See you in a bit, Julian. Dax out—_ ”

The combadge went silent.

Julian took a breath, and Garak expected him to argue about inviting people in without asking, but the doctor only smiled, and admitted, “You know, Garak, I’m starting to suspect we didn’t break the script at all. If I brought that enemy agent here... and did with her what I did with you...” He wet his lips, tilting his head. He stretched out a foot and slid it up Garak’s scaled leg, lips pursed. “Not so different after all. Maybe _I_ wouldn’t have been the one pressed front-down... but still.”

Garak hummed thoughtfully. “So what you’re saying, doctor, is that you’ve seduced me, and your twisted, glorious tongue pried enemy secrets from my willing lips...”

Julian flushed, pleased. “Tell me where that briefcase is, agent.”

“On the back seat of the car docked outside.”

“It’s ‘parked’, Garak, not docked.”

“Parked, then.”

Julian shuffled to his feet, standing tall and absolutely naked. He gasped as thickened Cardassian semen began oozing down his inner thighs, and he grasped a hand under his buttocks, embarrassed. Garak stood beside him, kissing his smooth shoulder. “Let me,” he whispered. He found his discarded underwear, folded them over a hand, and held Julian’s eyes as he cleaned him up, swipes of the fabric rising, rising, over and over until Julian was clean and the fabric was soaked and glittering.

Julian gulped. “Th-Thank you. But now what are you going to wear?”

Garak raised his eyeridges. “Who said I had to wear anything?” He found his wet trousers and frowned at them, holding them up. “Computer, dry clothes.”

With a bleep, they were dry. The underwear was not, however.

Garak did not put his underwear back on.

A couple of minutes later, they emerged from the shack, and into the gaping blue night. Stars twinkled in infinite lakes above. The storm had well and truly gone, leaving behind only an expanse of shadowed white and a road that led back to the mountains.

Shoes marched, crunching in snow that was cool but not deadly, Garak and Bashir hugging themselves as they found the murky shape of the car and got in with relieved huffs. Garak suspected Julian was faking feeling cold for the sake of immersion. The outside air was barely any colder than the Promenade.

Garak took the case and lay it in his lap. In the very faint shine of firelight through that unshuttered window, he thumbed at the numerical combination that kept the case locked, having memorised it before he closed it the first time. The case clicked open. He turned it, showing Julian its contents.

“Fascinating.” Julian took one of the vials, tilting it, examining the liquid inside. He paused, thumbing over a dent in the glass. “Viper Viper,” he said softly.

“Pardon?”

“This, these dots.” Julian took Garak’s hand and slid it into his own, making him feel a few dots decorating the glass. “It’s an Earth language called Braille. It can be read without sight. It says ‘ _Viper Viper_ ’.”

“A reference to the woman in red?”

“A reference to the contents,” Julian decided, finding the same dots on each vial. “I don’t think the woman’s name was Viper after all. I think _this_ is the Viper.”

“A viper... is a snake?” Garak asked.

“A venomous one, yes.”

“Then a double viper...”

“Double poison,” Julian supposed, nodding. “Especially deadly.” He put the vial carefully back in the foam gap it came from. “I’d be gentle with those if I were you.”

“And I’d arm yourself I were _you_ ,” Garak said, seeing a Humanoid shape staggering through the snow not too far away. Julian followed his eyeline and saw the figure approaching.

Julian reached behind himself and again pulled out his revolver. He checked how many bullets he had left – just one – and clipped the magazine into place again, weighing the gun in a steady hand. “Coming, Elim?”

“Always,” Garak said, getting out the other door, case in hand.

Julian went ahead through the snow, an elegant silhouette, tall and slim with his jacket flaring at his natural waist, revolver aimed down as he walked. The shadow approached him. Garak stayed back, crouched behind the car until he was ready, then headed out to meet the others as they came face-to-face.

“Mr. Bashir,” O’Brien said, as the one-eyed Falcon, giving a sneering grin. “We meet again.”

“Seems there’s no getting away from you,” Julian muttered.

O’Brien shrugged. “I set one of my top agents on your trail. I guess he didn’t complete his task after all.”

Julian glanced back, seeing Garak come up beside him, wearing a plain and simple smile. Julian smiled back, then turned to Falcon. “And what task would that be? To kill me? Everyone’s always trying to kill me. I’m used to it by now.”

“Funny you should say that,” Falcon drawled. “Matter of fact,” he threw Garak a look, then put on a smug smile, hands deep in his oversized leather coat, “I sent him to seduce you.”

“Oh?” Julian smirked. 

“Yeah, uh,” Chief O’Brien’s single visible eye flashed with new humility, “guess that’s a thing that would work. Sending men after you. Turns out.”

Julian grinned at him. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” O’Brien complained.

“Nothing,” Julian smiled. A mutter under his breath: “Slowpoke.”

“Oi.”

Julian grinned. “Anyway, you were saying, Falcon?” He slunk back a step, leaning warmly against Garak. “You ought to choose your men better. A top agent Garak may be, but he’s no more loyal to you than anyone.”

Garak drew the dart gun out from behind his back. It was loaded with Viper Viper poison, a vial inserted into the back. He gave Falcon a long stare.

“Forgive me, my friend,” Garak said, as he aimed the dart gun at Falcon. O’Brien had no idea what was in the vial, so didn’t react. Garak gave a little smile – then swung the gun towards Julian.

“ _Garak_?!”

Garak purred, “My dear, did it occur to you that I slept with you for the express purpose of having you save my life? We’ve all heard tell of the great Julian Bashir, have we not; he’ll do anything to protect his friends.” Garak took slow steps backwards, up to Falcon, now beside him in the snow. “And once the danger had passed... well, let’s just say, there was no point leaving a pleasant job unfinished.”

Julian looked genuinely upset. “Garak, you can’t just—”

“Oh, I can!” Garak cried, somewhat gleefully. “And I have.” He stood a few paces behind Falcon now, his smile easy on his face. “And suffice to say—”

He turned the dart gun towards Falcon’s back and shot him.

O’Brien glanced back. “Ow, what was that for?”

Julian snorted, then said, “It’s poison. You’re supposed to die.”

O’Brien looked hugely annoyed. “For God’s sake, I just _got_ here, why would I—”

Garak hit him with the butt of the dart gun, and O’Brien toppled over. He grunted and rolled onto his back, all covered in snow. “I just helped save your actual real-life _life_ , you know, Garak! Some show of gratitude _this_ is.”

“My sincere apologies,” Garak said with a bow to O’Brien. “But—” He swept up to Julian, took him in his arms, and kissed him with the kind of dramatic pressure and a backwards bend that only really happened in fiction. Once Garak released him, Julian fell from the kiss with a gush of breath and a dizzied look in his eyes. Garak finished, “I have developed quite the fondness for Mr. Bashir and his passion for ‘saving the day’.”

O’Brien folded his arms, glaring at the stars. “Fine then. I’m dead. Honestly, I put the coat and the eyepatch on for nothing. You know who owes me a drink now? Dax. Shouldn’t’a let her talk me into this.”

“Oh, you’ll rise again, Falcon,” Julian assured him, tucking his gun back into his trousers. “You always do.”

With that, he took Garak’s hand and they ran back to the car. In a hurry, like something might go wrong at any moment, Julian brought the car to life, reversed down the side-road, effortlessly swung the vehicle around on a patch of ice, and zoomed off towards the mountains.

They took each turn with great speed, tires screeching on the road – but no matter what Julian did, he didn’t seem able to steer them wrong.

“My dear,” Garak said, catching sight of car lights behind them, “it appears we have company.”

Julian glanced back. “So we do.”

Gold beams chased them no matter how fast they drove. They took each corner at dangerous speeds, barely able to see the next patch of road before their car tires slashed through the snow or rumbled over fallen rocks. The mountain valley was soon to be upon them; without the falling snow the valley was a gaping maw of black shadow, blue mist just caressing the distant bases of the rock.

But, in one quiet moment on a straight stretch of road, Garak saw a light out of the car’s window: a single star in a faintly lilac sky. Linear time inside a holosuite was often truncated for the purposes of storyline pacing, and now, an early winter dawn was approaching. There, in the sky, was the Evening Star, now the Morning Star.

“Vesper,” Garak whispered.

“What?” Julian asked, as he careened the car around another bend, almost hurtling them straight off the cliff, but miraculously avoiding such a fate.

“Vesper,” Garak said again. “You see it and you make a wish. A... prayer.” He looked at Julian. “I don’t pray,” he told him. “But I appreciate when others pray for me. And you did for me, didn’t you. You prayed and your wish came true.”

Julian didn’t even need to look at the road, as the car essentially drove itself. He gazed at Garak. “What would _you_ wish for?”

Garak smiled secretively. He turned to the road, and saw the end of the snaking trail was in sight: a great castle stood upon the rock, no doubt where the two cars had come from the previous night. But Garak snatched Julian’s arm, alerting him to a blockade on the road between them and the castle. His eyesight was not so good in the pre-dawn gloom, but he saw enough to know it wasn’t a clear road.

“My love,” Garak said, “I’d suggest we find another way out.”

“How? Where?” Julian huffed. “Car chasing us. Blockade ahead. Where do we go, Garak, off the cliff?”

“Yes!” Garak slid over, kicked Julian’s feet aside and hit the brakes for him. The car went into a tailspin, screeching on the ice, spilling snow as the car twisted, dragged towards the edge of the cliff. “I’d suggest you get ready to jump!” Garak took the case in one hand, Julian’s hand with the other, and – as the car tipped and started to fall, Garak experienced a quiet moment of ecstasy: Julian opened the door, let out a breath, and gave Garak the most dazzling, delighted smile he’d ever given.

The car fell. Julian jumped out. Garak followed, attached to his hand. They leapt through the air, rising, _flying_ for just a moment, and then falling again... Plummeting—

The car smashed on the rocks. The river roared below. A blurring noise approached from above—

Julian’s hand caught a rope that swung down out of nowhere, and Garak clung to him, sweeping past his legs as the great, weighted force of falling caught him in a jerk – but then he hovered in place. He took the rope as it swayed past, then looked up, and saw Julian scrunching himself up the lifeline. A hovercraft waited midair, blades sweeping in rotations, its sound throbbing through the valley.

Garak climbed with Julian, taking that half-minute to peer back, where the somehow-still-alive Falcon climbed out of the car that had given chase, his wheels having deflated on the spiked blockade. He looked even more annoyed than before.

Julian reached the hovercraft’s ledge and was helped inside by a strong hand. He leaned back out and helped Garak in too, and Garak brought the case with him.

“Nice chopper, ladies,” Julian said, rubbing his rope-raw hands.

“Ah!” Garak said in delight, finding Dax inside this ‘chopper’, smiling at him. “And you are—?”

“A friend of a friend,” Dax said, as the chopper continued to hover, the deafening noise of it all but drowning out her voice. “I’ll take that.” She helped Garak with the case, taking it off his clamped-up hand. “Wonderful morning, isn’t it?”

Kira looked back from the pilot’s seat. “Sure,” she said. “If you like falling to your death. HAH!” She tilted the controls and Julian stumbled towards the chopper’s open side. His hands slammed the borders, keeping both himself and Garak from falling.

“You know,” Garak said, stubborn shoes and gripping hands holding his face to the wind, “I’m really quite tired of all this treachery.”

“Oh, well, at least you have _one_ friend,” Julian said lightly, wincing as the chopper tilted violently in the other direction, and they fell against the inside wall. “Mr. Garak, if you’d be so kind—” He pulled out his revolver, handed it to Garak, then bent towards his foot to assemble his backup shoe pistol, while Garak defended him from Dax.

But Dax came at him with Klingon attack techniques, which made Garak panic and flail, and one hard tip of the chopper sent him tumbling straight out the other side – only for Julian to catch him by the hand as he swung into the open air, as miraculously as he’d succeeded at everything else.

Garak hung limply in Julian’s grip, having lost the revolver. “I’m not too good at this, am I? I think my skill set remains within the realm of quiet subterfuge.”

“On the contrary,” Julian smiled. “I can’t save the day if there’s no-one to save.” He hauled Garak back inside, straight into another fight. Garak rolled and then kicked, got to his feet, ducked, then elbowed Dax’s breasts, which was a good move, as it turned out. She wheezed, laughing and grimacing in pain. Garak murmured an apology, then looked away from her just in time to see Julian wrestle Kira from the pilot seat and enter a childish tussle as they both attempted to fight the other off without actually hurting the other.

But then Kira was dragged by her hair; she yelled; Julian’s foot was stomped on; he hopped around, yipping in pain – and the chopper started to fall. Garak fled to the cockpit, taking a seat, grabbing the first control he saw and yanked it high. The chopper lifted nose-first, and his weight pressed back into his seat. “Sorry!” he shouted, as the other three bodies thumped the back end of the hovercraft. “I’m very new at this.”

He twisted the controls until he had a handle on hovercraft – then peered back to see how Julian was doing.

Steady on one leg, Julian raised his foot and slam-kicked Kira straight out of the door. Dax was already gone. Kira laughed and hollered as she fell, falling into Dax’s arms on the way down, just before Dax opened up her parachute.

Julian caught his breath, and turned to Garak, eyes gleaming.

“Now,” he said, drawing the chopper’s open door shut until it latched into place. “Let’s you and me go somewhere nice.”

Garak passed over the controls, then looked around. “Forgive me for asking, but where is that briefcase full of apparently-deadly poison you were sworn to find and protect?”

Julian looked around too. “Oh,” he said. “Damn,” he added.

But he didn’t seem that upset. He smiled, and then grinned. And he flew the chopper on, up over the mountains and into the mighty blaze of a golden dawn.


	5. Another Adventure

Julian flew the helicopter to a rooftop in the city and slowly, carefully, but with untempered confidence, touched down onto a landing pad in the wildfire glow of the rising sun.

With a hum of satisfaction, Garak got up from the passenger’s seat and went to open up the chopper’s side door. Hot air rushed in. The fading whine of the chopper blades cut through the blur of distant traffic.

Garak offered Julian a hand, which Julian thanked him for warmly, stepping down into the heated wind.

From the roof of this building, only the top halves of other skyscrapers were visible, their edges silhouetted by golden beams. The rush of the morning city hurled a softness about Julian’s form, tousling his hair and refreshing his soul in ways all but impossible on a space station with no wind besides the air conditioners.

“Another of your safehouses?” Garak asked, walking at Julian’s side as they crossed the roof and headed for a door at the top of a stairwell. “Are we to expect another enemy attack? Or is the story over now?”

“Oh, who’s to say,” Julian chirped carelessly, jogging down the steps with Garak behind him.

They went from a dim stairwell to a sun-glazed studio apartment with a glossy white floor and windows in every direction. Julian undid his bow tie with one hand, turning back to invite Garak closer with just a look.

Tuxedo jacket tossed to the nearest claw-footed couch, Julian began toying with his shirt cuffs. He was soon distracted as Garak came up to stand beside him, taking off his own jacket, his eyes set interestedly on the cityscape before them.

“Beautiful,” Garak said. “Quite beautiful.” He folded his jacket over one arm, then threw it to land over Julian’s. “Of course, none of it is real.”

Julian smiled, chin down. “Mm, _I_ know what you’re going to say next.”

“Do you?”

Julian eyed him playfully, facing him and taking one deep, deep breath. Hands placed on Garak’s chest, he ran his palms up, hooked them behind Garak’s shirt collar, and pulled himself in tight, so their chests pressed and they shared a now-familiar warmth.

“You’re going to impart...” Julian tilted his head, “hm, an absolute _zinger_. This is where the story usually ends, you know. I watch the sunrise with the girl whose heart I won over... Our silhouettes look just, oh, exquisite, against a spectacular backdrop that represents hope and renewal. The last line has to be a good line.”

“Does it indeed?”

“Couldn’t pick anyone better to think of something. You have more wit than sense.”

Garak chuckled. “I’m sorry to say I have no ‘zingers’ to assert on demand.”

“Well, you said none of this is real.” Julian tipped his head to the sunrise. “But one thing here certainly is.”

“Oh?” Garak’s hands wound their way around Julian’s waist, holding on. “And what’s that, my dear?”

Julian shut his eyes and turned his head, kissing Garak in that soft, perfect, the-end-but-a-beginning sort of way. “You and me,” he breathed, lips brushing Garak’s, “are very real. This—?” he nosed apart from their kiss, meeting Garak’s eyes, “is real.”

Garak gazed at him tenderly, the tiniest movement of his nose indicating a nod. “Tell me, doctor, as your kind is so inclined to wish on stars... do you wish upon your own? It rather makes itself known with its heat, and I’d be remiss to ignore it.”

Julian cracked a grin. “Depends. What would you have me wish for now?”

“Oh, I think _you’ve_ made quite enough wishes for one night, doctor,” Garak said, putting a fond kiss on Julian’s cheek, then another closer to his ear. A whisper, a soft one: “I’ll be saving this one for me.”

Julian chuckled, snuggling into a kiss – a pushy, eager salutation that was definitely not a ‘The End’ kind of kiss. Garak hummed and drew Julian deeper into it, taking and giving, and eventually leaving Julian so breathless and so hot all over that he laughed, toppling back a couple steps and tugging Garak with him. Hands entwined, they made their way to the couch for more kisses, more touches, and more wishes come true.

⋆

Deep in the mountain valley, a proper touch of morning light had melted away the mist, and the river shone now, its banks happy with moss and its lapping edges blue with the sky’s first reflection.

Jadzia and Kira sat on a boulder, laughing, passing each other good rocks for skipping, then sending them buckling over the water, chopping ripples through bumps on the ever-shifting surface.

“One more, one more,” Kira said. “If you hit the other side I’ll take you to Quark’s.”

“You owe me six dinners already.”

“Fine, seven then!” Kira grinned. “But if I hit the other side first, you’re taking me hang-gliding.”

“ _Told_ you you’d like Julian’s program. The parachute was a nice touch, huh?”

“Just throw the damn rock, Jadzia.”

Jadzia wound up her throwing arm, bit her lip, then shot the rock. _Splat-spat-pat-pat-pat-pat – thonk_ —

“Hey!” O’Brien flinched away from the rock as it hit his kayak and sank into the river. “At least in my actual kayaking program nobody’s throwing rocks at me.”

“Sorry!” Jadzia called, as Kira threw her head back laughing, both hands on her middle.

O’Brien paddled his kayak up to the edge of the river, and it scrunched on the bank and went still. He clambered out, still wearing Falcon’s thick leather, even if the eyepatch was perched up on his forehead. He ambled up to the women, standing by and watching Kira skim a rock across the river, and it bounced and bounced until—

“A-hA!” Kira jumped up, arms high. Bright-eyed and energetic, she turned to Jadzia and pointed. “Hang-gliding!”

Jadzia pouted. “As princesses?”

Kira gave in with an eye-roll. “Fine. Flying princesses.”

“Tell you what,” Jadzia said, hopping down off their boulder and patting O’Brien on the arm, still grinning at Kira, “I’ll throw in a fire-breathing dragon. Just for you.”

“Aww,” Kira said, hand on her heart. “I’m touched.”

O’Brien took off his eyepatch. “You think Julian’s done with his game by now? We’re overrunning his reservation time.”

“Well,” Kira said, “we haven’t been hurled into another chapter of the plotline.” She glanced at the briefcase of broken vials and absent dart gun, shattered and lost across the river’s edge. “Maybe we should’ve been protecting that thing instead of... you know, having fun.”

“Puh,” O’Brien said, as Dax chortled derisively.

“Yeah,” Kira smiled. “Didn’t think so.”

O’Brien hummed, then decided: “Computer, end program.”

The river and the mid-morning sun faded away with a _shhwuush_ sound, and the tiny green holosuite arrived around them. Jadzia, Nerys and Miles spun around, hearing a nearby thump – and saw Julian and Garak tangled together in their untucked shirts, popped collars, and unbuttoned trousers, writhing on the ground in pain as they’d clearly just fallen off a surface that now no longer existed.

Julian looked up at their audience, all sheepish and shy, but Garak just looked smug. They helped each other to their feet, taking careful breaths, and tending to their clothes with blushes on their faces – or, in Garak’s case, darkening his neck scales.

“Have fun?” Jadzia ventured, one hand on her hip.

“Oh, lots,” Julian said, jumping a few times to pull his trousers up around his shirt. “Plenty. Almost lost Garak forever. Couldn’t have _had_ a better time.”

Garak gave him a sweet look. Then he looked at Jadzia and said, lightly, “You’d be surprised how little sarcasm was intended in that statement, Lieutenant. I thank you again all for your help tonight. You three have, very simply put, saved my life.”

“Believe us,” Kira said, “we did it for Julian.”

Jadzia leaned close to Garak as he did up his second shirt cuff. She shouldered him and whispered, “ _I_ did it for you.”

O’Brien grunted noncommittally, but offered Garak a tiny, stiff smile.

Julian was beaming to himself when Garak looked over next. The doctor’s eyes shone, his cheeks gleamed, and he cocked out an elbow, expecting Garak to take it.

Garak surreptitiously tucked a damp, glittering pair of underpants into his tuxedo pocket, then slid his arm into Julian’s. “My dear,” he said, not minding that everyone was listening, “I hope you’ll forgive me my trespasses tonight. I think I’ve quite learned my lesson.”

“Oh,” Julian cooed, pretending to look devastated. “I don’t know, I kind of liked you barging in uninvited.”

“You did?”

“No.” Julian laughed, taking Garak’s cheek and applying a kiss hard to his lips, breathing out and smiling as he did. He fell back, as everyone else smirked around them. “But that’s not to say, Garak, that I don’t _want_ you here. Maybe just wait until I invite you, how does that sound?” He glanced around, then peeked back, shrugged, and asked, “W-Would youuuu, um. Maybe. Like to get a drink with me? Now.”

Kira rolled her eyes, as Jadzia went “Aww,” and O’Brien harrumphed in amusement.

Garak looked astounded, and happily so. His joy grew until his eyes crinkled below their curved ridges, and the corners of his lips were shadowed by deep smile lines. “Well, doctor. Even a wish upon an imaginary star is a wish not made in vain, it seems. Yes, my dear, I would be delighted.”

Julian grinned, bringing Garak into a forehead press and another quick kiss.

“Computer, doors,” Kira said, pretending not to be affected by all this soppy nonsense, but her smile somewhat gave her away. She strutted out, languidly followed by Jadzia, then O’Brien, who glanced back twice in costernation, but left looking content enough.

“How about,” Julian asked, in a soft voice between two more kisses, “after those drinks... you and I...?” kiss, kiss, nuzzle, “enjoy another adventure.” He pulled back, eyes atwinkle. “In my quarters.”

Garak grinned with perfect mirth. “Why, my _dear_ Julian, after all you said of my wit, you were the one to impart that ‘zinger’ of a last line.”

“It wasn’t _that_ good,” Julian said in confusion, holding Garak’s hand as they left the holosuite. “Was barely even a grammatically correct sentence.”

The doors closed behind them, and they wandered the hallway towards Quark’s bar, as Garak said, “It certainly invited some kind of ‘zing’ within my person.”

“You mean it made you tingly.”

“Ah, Julian, there’s very little you say or do that does not elicit such a response.”

“Ooh.” Julian turned to Garak and they walked backwards along the upper walkway of the bar, smirky and lightheaded. “Well, colour _me_ intrigued.”

Garak squinted at him. “You _do_ say some very odd things sometimes, doctor.”

Julian just laughed, still looking at Garak as they picked their way down the spiral staircase and into a crowd that neither of them noticed. “Truth is, my dear tailor,” Julian admitted, with immense fondness, locking his fingers through Garak’s, “I love some very odd people, too.”

And they let those be the last words said until much, much later, when they rested together, wrapped up warm and comfortable in a bed that definitely wasn’t going to vanish under them. They shared heat and kisses and a mutual promise to ask first before doing certain things – like picking spy programs that could kill Cardassians, or like changing holosuite settings to make that danger infinitely more likely.

But other things, they need not ask about first – like Julian wrapping his arms around his very warm, very happy lover and kissing the back of his neck.

Those things, they’d just _do_.

**{ the end }**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ☆ [reblog art](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/189521767730/i-posted-my-4th-garashir-story-viper-viper)  
> ☆ [reblog opening lines](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/189521880945/viper-viper-vesper-snow)
> 
> Well, that was that. Honestly, at this point I'm just hyperfixating on Garashir. There's 7 or 8 more completed fics in my drafts to post in the coming weeks, with more to come. If you want notifications when I post, [**subscribe**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/)! They're probably all gonna have art because I'm just that Extra.  
> Anyway, thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed this you'll like [**my other Garak/Bashir fics**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/works?fandom_id=8474), and you should definitely go read those. c:  
> Sending love to every nook and cranny of the Quadrant~  
> Elmie x


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